


Seven Tears

by Forest_of_bread



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, And it's mostly from Lance's pov, Anxiety, Everyone needs one of those, F/M, He deserves supportive siblings, I can't plan things, I know they have canonical ages and stuff now but again, I let someone goad me into writing this, I love selkies, I made up a cool older sister for Lance, I'm Sorry, I'm here for a good time not to make quality fiction, It's an AU and I do what I want, Keith is a selkie, Klance is the main pair, Lance's mom (Voltron) - Freeform, Langst, M/M, Mutual Pining, OC, OR IS IT, Self-Doubt, Selkie AU, Selkies, That's kinda a shapeshifting thing though, This is honestly just self-indulgent fluff for the most part, Unrequited Love, Who needs canon anyway, i guess, no i'm not, plot? what's that, she/her pronouns for pidge, there's nudity I guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:17:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forest_of_bread/pseuds/Forest_of_bread
Summary: Voltron Selkie AU. There aren't enough of those.Edit: if you don't know what a Selkie is, I highly recommend googling them.  They're shapeshifters who can take either human or seal form.  And I have a Thing for Selkie stories because they're just. So cool.Edit: I started this before i knew any of their canonical ages, etc. and I just sort of made shit up.  Allura is older because I said so. Yeet





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aeruh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeruh/gifts).



> This is my first fic. I did not do any drafting or editing on this. Read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Since a lot of backstory has turned up in the past year (yaaass) I'm going to be editing this. Hope y'all don't mind. Also, I swear I'm working on the next chapter like, right now and I love my readers a lot you're great

Lance was, by now, accustomed to the crushing disappointment that was regular family gatherings. He had been to rather more than a few of them now, enough that he hadn't been able to help noticing a strong recurring pattern in how these things went.  
Here was how they went: every year for Christmas, his immediate family (Lance, Lance's parents, and enough of Lance's siblings that he wasn't entirely sure exactly how many he had anymore) traveled to the beach to visit Lance's extended family at his grandparents' house. Lance anticipated the event for months in advance: he was excited to see them, and he always managed to convince himself that, this year, things would go better. He would bond with his cousins, his aunts would ask him questions about his life that weren't so how's school or when are you going to get a girlfriend, and someone would remember to keep the tomato sauce separate from the pasta because Lance was allergic to it. And because none of these nice things ever actually happened, Lance was always disappointed.  
He was getting better, though. Every year he was a little more prepared for the disappointment. He was seventeen now, and a seasoned veteran of the annual holiday catastrophe that was family gatherings. He expected them to be like this. When Lance's youngest siblings and their youngest cousins all simultaneously found something to be upset about, and one of Lance's aunts ignited a heated political debate over a game of scrabble, he tried to cheer everyone up, as usual: but as usual, no one even noticed. He ducked into the kitchen, and nearly collided with one of his older cousins and the huge mixing bowl in her hands.  
"Sorry!" he said immediately.  
She spared him a passing glare as she set the bowl down on the counter. "What do you want?"  
"I just wanted to see if I could help you with anything," Lance mumbled.  
She made an exasperated noise. "Thanks, Lance, but just stay out of my way, alright?"  
Lance felt a familiar weight settle in the center of his chest, like an old injury that refused to close all the way and had started bleeding again. He gritted his teeth, made himself stop trying, and went for a walk.  
It wasn't a particularly nice day. The northern California coast was rarely sunny any time of year, but Lance was half-convinced it was even less so in December. An unbroken blanket of gray clouds covered the sky, and it was windy enough that Lance's jacket wasn't quite sufficient to keep out the chill. He wrapped his arms around himself as his long legs carried him down to the beach.  
The Pacific looked especially alien and unfathomable on gray days like this. Huge indigo swells crested and thundered down on the shore, loud enough that Lance could hardly hear anything else. There was so much of it that it hardly looked like water: it looked like it fell more slowly, more patiently, than something that heavy ought to, and the flatter expanse behind the breakers didn't look like it moved like water should. Lance knew it was just a trick his mind played, and he loved it. He took off his shoes and let the foamy edges of the water rush around his ankles, gasping at the cold. By the time it rushed back down the and the next big swell was breaking, his feet were almost too cold to feel the wet sand.  
Dangling his shoes by their laces in one hand, he turned and walked north, towards the rockier and more deserted end of the beach. When he reached the spot where he could go no further without climbing over the crumbling shale boulders, he stopped to brush the sand off his feet and put his shoes back on. Then he scrambled inelegantly up the rocks, and stopped at the top.  
He had never gone this far up the beach before. He stood as close to the edge as he dared and surveyed the terrain ahead. The hills above the beach rose dramatically here, into proper cliffs of the ambiguous, unexciting gray stone that most of the sea stacks were made of. The beach turned into a narrow strip of gravel that turned into tide pools further down, and the cliffs curved into natural walls that blocked out most of the big swells. Even in such a foul mood, Lance couldn't help but be happy to see the tide pools. He slid down the other side of the rocks and hopped across the higher, dryer rocks that formed the closest tide pools until he found one to sit on, far out enough that it was surrounded on all sides by water too deep to see the bottom of, but high enough that he didn't have to worry about getting soaked. The tide was pretty high: he didn't think there was a risk of getting stuck there.  
He leaned over the side to stare at the water, finally alone enough. He could see his dim reflection in the greenish-gray water, brown hair messy from the wind. That pressure in the center of his chest was still there, still throbbing from what his cousin had said, from what everyone else hadn't said, from the fact that this holiday trip was going exactly the same way every one of them had, and he never seemed to get any better at them.  
Lance took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and had to remind himself he was alone. It was okay to let himself cry here. Better to do it here than in the house, after all.  
It took a while for the tears to come, even after he stopped trying to hold them back. He was used to hiding it, and maybe they had gotten used to being hidden. But they did come, and he let them fall in the water, reviewing every embarrassing moment in his memory, even though they were worn as smooth as the pebbles on the beach from years of being dwelt upon.  
When Lance looked up again, there was a seal watching him.  
Lance sniffed and stared back at it in confusion. It was awfully close, maybe ten feet away, perched on another tide rock, wet and dark and awkward-looking out of the water. It didn't move.  
Lance sat up. "Hey," he said softly. "You okay?" He was pretty sure no wild animal should be getting so close, not a healthy, normal one. He was also pretty sure a seal could bite his arm off, even a smallish one like this.  
The seal scooted farther up the rock, and Lance watched, uncomprehending, as it slowly peeled its skin off.  
It was not as gross as it should have been. The seal's skin parted cleanly under its chin and down its throat, and slid off smoothly, like it was supposed to do that. Underneath it there was a boy, shrugging the loose skin around himself like a blanket, stretching his neck, and pushing damp black hair out of his eyes. Lance's face was still wet: a minute ago he had been crying. He stared with significantly less shock than he would have expected of himself.  
The boy settled on the rock with his feet--and the tail end of the seal skin--tucked carefully above the water so they wouldn't get wet. He looked at Lance. " _You_ summoned _me_. Why are you asking if I'm okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

Lance blinked dumbly. "What do you mean I summoned you?"  
The seal boy frowned slightly. "You didn't do it on purpose?"  
"I guess not?" Lance sat cross-legged on his rock, trying not to blink. If he blinked, would the boy disappear?  
"Oh." The seal-boy looked disappointed. "I suppose you probably wouldn't know to try anyway. But I'm here now, so..." he gave a little shrug, barely visible under the thick seal skin around his shoulders. He looked about Lance's age, with black hair in a damp mullet and stormy gray eyes that reminded Lance a little of a cat. He had graceful hands that were holding the seal skin closed around himself, and Lance guessed he wasn't wearing anything under it. It looked a lot bigger than it had when he was a seal.  
"I'm sorry, but what?" Lance burst out. He hadn't been able to avoid blinking for too long, but nothing had changed. "Is it just me or were you a seal a minute ago? And then you peeled your skin off! And how did I summon you? What the freckle, man?" His voice sounded a lot more freaked out than he felt.  
"I'm a selkie," the boy explained patiently. "We do that. And you summoned me when you shed seven tears into the sea."  
"Oh," Lance replied. "Sure. That explains everything."  
"I don't know what else you want me to say," the selkie said.  
Lance took a deep breath, and imagined himself taking several more. "Okay. I'm super freaked out right now."  
"Uh. Sorry?" The selkie tried. "Should I let you get back to what you were doing?"  
Lance glared at him and wiped his eyes on his sleeve before he could catch himself. "Well, like you said, you're here now. Why not stick around?"  
The selkie raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine," Lance growled. "Are you?"  
"I'm not the one crying on a beach."  
"Would you like to be?" Lance snapped. "If you keep talking like that I'm sure it could be arranged."  
"You could never catch me," the selkie told him, unconcerned. "I was just asking."  
Lance sulked at him across the water.  
"Fine," the selkie said reluctantly. "Sorry. I'm Keith, by the way."  
Lance decided to let him change the subject. "I'm Lance." He frowned. "Keith? Really? That's such a normal-sounding name."  
Keith scowled. "What sort of name do you think I should have?"  
"Something cool," Lance said, before he could stop himself. Wow, even I think I sound like a jerk, he thought.  
"Well, I think Lance is a stupid name," Keith replied sullenly. "We'll have to agree to disagree."  
"You're just saying that because you know you've already lost," Lance taunted, and then he made himself shut up.  
"I hadn't realized this was a fight," Keith told him. He shifted his grip on his seal skin so he could have one hand free to gesture with. He waved it, exasperatedly, to emphasize his point.  
Lance leaned his elbows on his knees. This time it was him trying to change the subject. "So...you were really a seal earlier." He wasn't sure he should be accepting the idea so easily.  
"Yes," Keith said. "I usually am." He looked down at his fingers and wiggled them. "I haven't shed my skin in a while, actually."  
"What's that like?" Lance asked. "Do you just...swim around all day? Wait, can all seals turn into people?"  
Keith smiled. "I do not swim around all day, but I guess I do swim a lot. And no. Can all humans turn into seals?"  
"No," Lance answered, before he realized the question was rhetorical. "How come you can do that? Is it like a vampire deal, where one of them bites you and then you turn into a part-time sea mammal?"  
"What? No. Selkies are born selkies. We do not go around biting people. Have you ever heard of someone getting bit by one?" Keith looked like he hadn't decided if he wanted to laugh or be annoyed. "We're just...seals most of the time. We swim around and eat and sleep on sea stacks. We don't usually interact with humans at all, unless one calls us, like you did."  
Lance thought about what life would be like if he didn't have to worry about graduating, or applying to college, or jobs, and could just swim and sleep all the time. "That sounds cool," he said, enviously. "I wish I could just go swimming in the ocean like that. How long can you hold your breath for?"  
Keith grinned diabolically. "A lot longer than you can. Even in this form."  
Lance raised an eyebrow.  
Keith sighed. "The longest dive I ever timed was nearly seventeen minutes. But I was a lot younger then, and I know I can do longer now. I just haven't exactly had a stopwatch handy."  
"Ha," Lance said, "how would you even operate one without hands?"  
"Right," Keith replied. "Flippers aren't exactly great for using technology with. Or holding stuff." He looked at his own hands again, and Lance wondered if it was weird for him to see them after being in the shape of an entirely different animal for a long time.  
Lance settled his chin on his hands. "So, do you have like, a selkie family? Selkie friends?"  
Keith looked up, but not at Lance's eyes. "Not really. I mean, all the selkies--and seals--in the areas kind of are okay with each other, mostly, but we don't exactly hang out..." he hesitated a little too long, but didn't say anything more detailed. "What about you? Do you have a human family?"  
Lance groaned. "I have too much human family," he told Keith. "I'm avoiding them right now. And I have human friends, back home, but not here. Hunk and Pidge are both visiting their own human families for Christmas."  
Keith's eyebrows shot up. "It's Christmas? Already?"  
"Yes. Well, not quite. It's the twentieth of December today. You know what Christmas is?"  
Keith ignored his question. "Why are you avoiding your family?"  
"They're too loud," Lance said immediately, but that was only a small part of the story. "I have a lot of siblings. And even more aunts and uncles and cousins, and neices and nephews. And right now a lot of them are crammed together into a house that isn't big enough and a lot of them are really young, so it's really chaotic, you know?" Keith didn't say anything, so Lance kept talking. "I just need a break from it sometimes. And--" Lance swallowed, feeling the tears from earlier prick at the back of his eyes again. He pushed them away expertly. "I feel like most of them don't really want me around anyway. Like, they say they do, but they have to say that. They're my family. I don't think they mean it. So," he forced his voice to lighten as he gestured to indicate the tide pools, "I'm down here instead."  
Keith's expression was unreadable. "I'm sure they do want you around," he said. His tone was familiar: The only person Lance knew who didn't use that tone to try to cheer him up was Pidge. Lance hated it, but he let Keith talk. "Speaking of which, are they going to miss you?"  
Lance laughed. "They probably haven't even noticed that I left," he told Keith. "They never pay attention to where I am unless they need me to watch my sister's kids." Internally, he cringed. He hadn't meant to sound so bitter.  
"Well, if you don't think they'll come looking for you...do you want to go look at the tide pools? I haven't been here in a while, so..." he trailed off. Lance brightened.  
"Yes," he said happily. "I love tide pools. And I've never been to this part of the beach before."  
Keith smiled. Lance tried to leap to his feet, but his legs had cramped up while he sat, and he ended up staggering instead. Keith was more cautious: he staggered awkwardly upright, and looked around at the tide rocks around him. They were close together enough to easily walk across without getting his feet wet, but the selkie looked uncertain.  
"How long has it been since you walked?" Lance asked.  
Keith smiled sheepishly. "A while," he admitted. "I think I might be a little rusty. Swimming is so much easier."  
Lance watched, worried, as the selkie awkwardly picked his way to more solid ground, but Keith didn't fall. Lance allowed the other boy to lead him in a whimsical, obviously unplanned route all over the beach and the tide pools, watching crabs and tiny sharks and colorful sea anemones, following the tide outward as more pools became reachable. By the time they finished, Lance felt almost like himself again, and they only stopped because the sun had set and it was getting to dark to see properly. The wind had died down, at least, but Lance was definitely getting colder.  
Keith pulled his skin tighter around him, watching the lights of fishing boats out on the open water. "Are you going to be able to get home in this light?"  
"Of course," Lance said, indignant. "Are you?"  
"I pretty much am home," Keith pointed out. He dug his toes into the damp gravel. "Look, I know you didn't mean to summon me and all, but...it was nice talking to you. I haven't talked to a human in a while. Or looked at the tide pools."  
Lance grinned at him. "Of course it was nice talking to me. I'm awesome."  
Keith raised an eyebrow and said nothing.  
"So...if I come back here tomorrow, do you think you'll be here?" Lance was going to need proof, tomorrow, that any of this had happened.  
Keith smiled lopsidedly. "Are you planning to cry on the beach again?"  
"Yeah," Lance snapped. "because your face is too sad."  
"That doesn't even make any sense," Keith told him exasperatedly. He started towards the ocean.  
" Hey! You didn't answer my question!" Lance yelled after him.  
Keith half-turned back towards Lance. "I'll try to stay in the area," he called back. "In case you need an ass-kicking."  
He didn't give Lance time to respond. He knelt in the water, pulling the sealskin up over his head. Lance watched in awe as Keith's human form morphed seamlessly into his seal one, like it was the most natural process in the world. It was almost impossible to see him against the dark water, but Lance heard one little splash as Keith dove under the surface.  
He stood there for longer than he should have, staring at the place where Keith had been, before turning to trek back to his grandparents' house, just like he would on a normal day after a normal walk on the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a good chance this will be the last chapter for a while because I'm going on a Trip on Thursday and won't have wifi for the rest of the month. But I'll post more when I get back, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance got up as early as he dared the next morning, unable to contain the buzz of anticipation. He would go back to the little rocky beach, and if Keith was there, he decided, he would let himself believe that Keith was real.  
He wanted to go straight to the beach and stay there all day, just to be safe, but common sense told him this plan would never actually work. He had to at least eat first. And he had to figure out an excuse to be gone for an indefinite amount of time today. There were details, he needed a plan, he couldn't just go disappearing for hours and not coming back until after dark again.  
Lance had never been too big on plans, but he didn't think he would be able to get away with improvising today.  
It was early enough that Lance thought he might be the first person awake in the whole house. It wasn't even fully light out yet: the sun was up, but just barely, and the sky was still pink around the edges. Since most of the house's windows faced the sea, it was still twilight inside. Lance headed for the kitchen: breakfast, he thought, and maybe he could slip out before anyone else was awake to question him. Morning walks on the beach weren't unusual, right?  
Right then, Lance couldn't tell. He felt the secret burned on his hands and across his face like a beacon, leaving him with the irrational certainty that as soon as someone saw him they would know he was hiding something no matter what. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and when he looked up, his sister Veronica was standing on the other side of the counter with her arms crossed.  
Lance swallowed and set the cereal box down. "Good morning."  
"Good morning," Veronica accused. She was several years older and a good bit less awkward than Lance, and she was terrifying.  
Lance timidly shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.  
"Why are you up so early?"  
Lance chewed the cereal thoroughly, stalling. His sister waited patiently for him to finish: he swallowed resignedly. "I wanted to go beach combing?"  
Veronica raised her eyebrows. "I thought you hated mornings."  
"The morning is the best time to go," Lance said desperately. "And I don't hate mornings. Mornings hate me."  
Veronica retrieved a bowl and spoon from their grandmother's immaculate cupboards and sat across from Lance. She took a million years to pour her own cereal, and Lance waited in painful silence.  
"It's okay if you need a break," she said finally.  
"What?"  
Veronica stirred her cereal. "You were gone a long time yesterday. I figured you just needed to get out of the house."  
Lance frowned at his own food. She wasn't wrong. "I didn't mean to be gone so long."  
"Maybe you need to be gone a little longer this time," Veronica told him sympathetically. "If anyone asks where you are I'll try to keep them off your back, okay?"  
Lance blinked at her, recalculating his opinion of his sister. "Really?"  
"Yeah, f'course I will," she mumbled, her mouth full. "But you should hurry and leave before Mom wakes up and asks you to do something."  
Lance beamed at her. "You are the best sister," he proclaimed, and took her advice, barely sparing the time to leave his empty bowl in the sink before he grabbed his jacket and shoes and charged out the door.  
It was much windier than it had been yesterday, and when Lance reached the beach he had to squint to avoid getting sand in his eyes. The only other person in sight was a jogger, who was moving in the direction opposite Keith's beach. Lance hoped the unfavorable weather would ensure that he didn't have to worry about anyone interrupting him today.  
He made good time to the end of the sandy beach, but the tide was still quite high, following the early sun up the shore, and Lance realized quickly that he wasn't going to be able to reach the boulders he had climbed over yesterday for a while. Even if he could, the tide pools were probably mostly submerged anyway. He cursed himself for not thinking of this sooner and briefly considered coming back later, but he was at least close to where he had met Keith yesterday: maybe the selkie would find him if he waited here. And the tide would go out far enough for him to reach the tide pools in a few hours.  
He found a comfortable rock to sit on, and waited.  
And waited.  
An eternity later, Lance got up to stretch his legs and wandered around by the edge of the water. He checked the clock on his phone: it had been twenty minutes.  
Groaning, Lance walked along the beach in the other direction, picking up the occasional bit of polished rock or shell as the tide left them behind, enjoying the weight of them in his pockets. Maybe if he found more they would be heavy enough to keep him from giving up and leaving the beach too soon.  
By the time he wandered back to the rock he had been sitting on, he was pleased to see the tide had gone out enough to leave a small section of the shale boulders accessible. Not the part he had climbed yesterday, but he tried anyway, running to reach it between waves so he could avoid getting his shoes wet. He made it about three feet up the rock before sliding back down, scraping his palms, and splashing ankle-deep into the icy water that had rushed up the beach below him.  
Waiting for things was harder than everyone seemed to think it was.  
Since his shoes were already soaked, Lance kept trying, and made it to the other side in a much wetter and muddier state than he had intended. The shallowest tide pools were partially accessible, and Lance found a sufficiently dry rock to sit on while he pulled off his sopping shoes and socks and waited some more.  
Lance was just starting to wonder if he would need to cry again when finally, finally, he saw the sleek, dark head of a harbor seal poke up above the surface of the water just a little ways beyond the tide pools. Jubilant, Lance hopped to his feet and waved.  
The seal disappeared under the water again. Lance waited, but nothing happened. Had Keith just decided not to come? Lance reviewed everything that had happened since the selkie had first appeared, trying to think of anything he might have done wrong. Several possible blunders came to mind. He waited some more, resting his chin on his knees, gazing bleakly at the space the seal had been, listening to the hundreds of different sounds as water slapped against rock. He was so intent on watching the ocean that a shout behind him caught him entirely by surprise.  
"Lance! Over here!"  
Lance turned, and there was Keith, wrapped in his spotted seal skin, standing on the beach, his hair whipped in all directions by the wind. Lance grabbed his shoes and socks (still damp) and stumbled back to the beach as fast as he could without risking the safety of his bare feet on the rocks. "Hey! Keith! You actually came! I wasn't sure you would. I mean, I wasn't sure you were real either, so obviously you couldn't have come if you weren't, but also. I wasn't sure you would come. Er." Calm down, Lance, he told himself. Act normal. "Hi. How are you?"  
Keith was smiling. "I'm fine. How long have you been here?"  
Lance shrugged. "Oh, not too long. So, did you have a nice swim on the way here?"  
"Yeah," Keith replied, sounding very unsure of himself. "Did you have a nice walk?"  
"Yeah," Lance said, which was partly true. "I picked up some shells and stuff on the way. Do you like shells? Well, I guess you probably see them all the time, so..." you sound like an idiot, he thought.  
"No," Keith said. "I do like shells. I see a lot of really nice ones when I dive, but I usually can't pick them up, because, you know, no hands." He wiggled the fingers on his free hand for emphasis.  
"You could balance them on your nose," Lance suggested.  
Keith glared at him. "Don't make me regret coming."  
"I'm hilarious and you know it," Lance told him. "Do you want to see the shells I found?"  
That got another smile out of Keith. "Sure." Keith's smiles seemed to be mostly subtle things, soft around the edges and fleeting, but Lance thought they were sincere.  
Lance picked a spot on the beach that was both sandy and had sunlight already and started pulling all the interesting bits of shell and rock that he had found out of his pockets, and tried to reconcile the fact that he was sitting on a beach in California showing the latest additions to his rock collection to a mythical sea creature who had a mullet and an infuriatingly normal name.  
He wasn't entirely sure that it was the weirdest thing he had ever done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this instead of sleeping. This will definitely be the last chapter for the next two weeks or so, since I won't have internet, but when I get back I'll post more.


	4. Chapter 4

"So," Lance began casually, "are mermaids a thing too?"  
Keith looked baffled. "What?"  
"Mermaids! If you're real, does that mean mermaids are too? Do you have mermaid friends? Or are you like, enemies? Do selkies and mermaids get together and have awesome ocean battles?"  
Keith watched as Lance's hands arranged shells in little piles, by type and then size. "Why do you keep asking weird questions?"  
"Hey! They're not weird," Lance protested. "I think it is a perfectly reasonable question to ask, given the circumstances."  
Keith picked up a fragment of thick clam shell, about an inch across, that had been worn so smooth by years in the water that it looked like marble. "This one's really cool."  
Lance frowned at him. "Are you avoiding my question because there really are mermaids? Oh! Or are you not allowed to talk about it?"  
Keith put the bit of clam shell back. "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."  
Lance picked up the shell and moved it to the correct pile. "Fine, be mysterious if you want," he said flippantly.   
"Maybe I do," Keith shot back. "Or maybe you're just overthinking it."  
"Well," Lance mused, "it's not often that I get accused of thinking."  
They fell mostly silent again as Lance finished sorting through his little collection, and together they looked at each piece, occasionally showing each other features that they found especially pleasing or interesting. Then Lance put them all back into his pockets and they went to search the beach for more: the tide pools meant a lot more shells, and the inaccessible nature of this particular beach meant hardly anyone else ever came to pick them up. Keith gave what he found to Lance, which made Lance feel rather irrationally guilty. It was only practical--where would Keith put it?--but still, it felt unfair. They paced the beach back and forth, following the tide out, and Keith let Lance talk at length about his family. He asked questions, and gave Lance time to answer them, even though Lance's answers were long and rambling and even Lance thought most of what he wound up saying was objectively boring.   
He realized he didn't feel quite as annoying as he usually did, not with Keith. Maybe it was just because they had just met yesterday and Keith hadn't gotten tired of him yet. It was still nice.   
They were both so preoccupied with the beach that they were surprised when it started raining.  
"Uh-oh," said Lance mournfully. "Mom will freak out if I get home all wet." He looked at the storm over the sea, and realized that it was probably about to start raining a lot harder.   
Keith followed Lance's gaze. "I don't think you're going to be able to avoid that now...I'm sorry. I forgot that getting wet could be a problem." He looked sheepish.   
Lance cast him a sidelong look. "Hey, I thought getting wet was what made you turn back into a seal. Isn't that what happened yesterday?"  
"It only works with sea water."  
"Oh."  
Lance caught a raindrop on his tongue. It tasted better than any other water. "Well, I guess since I'm already wet it won't matter if I stay out longer."  
Keith grinned. "I can't argue with that logic. Do you want to find someplace a little higher, though? I think the wind will be kicking up soon and I'd rather not be on this beach in a storm. Swimming around all those rocks is doable in good weather, but..."  
Lance nodded. He was getting cold now anyway: he wanted to move. "Do you know a good place?"  
"Of course," Keith scoffed. "Come on." He led Lance back the same way Lance had taken to get to the tide pools before, taking considerably longer to climb over the rocks than Lance did, and taking extra care climbing down the other side to avoid cutting his feet. From there he headed for the hills above the beach, the ones that rose up into the cliffs that hid their little beach with the tide pools. Lance's grandparents' house was to the south, in a spot where the hills came as close to flat as anything that wasn't beach did and there were a few fields and elderly barns and something that could be called a road by some standards. To the north was steep slopes covered in trees and ferns, transected by the so-called road on its way to what passed for a town.   
Keith led Lance into the trees, downhill from where the road was. The wind and the rain had both started coming harder, as Keith had predicted, and Lance was thoroughly drenched. He squelched along after the selkie, carefully scanning the ground ahead of him for banana slugs--he had accidentally stepped on one once, when he was seven, and still lived in terror of doing it again--and trying not to slip in the mud. His mom was going to be upset about how muddy his shoes were getting. His mom was going to be upset about how wet he was, too. She would tell him he was going to catch a cold, and he would tell her that wasn't actually how people got colds, and she would ignore his reasoning as always and make coffee.   
He was so busy watching where he put his feet that when Keith stopped a few paces ahead of him, he accidentally bumped into him.   
"Sorry!" he gasped. His face was cold from the wind, which made talking harder. He looked up, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes. They were standing under an enormous tree, one of those really big evergreen ones that had most of their branches on one side from all the wind. This one was big enough that the space under its unusually broad canopy was dry.  
Keith settled on the ground against the side of the trunk facing away from the sea, where it was dry and out of the wind. He patted the space next to him. "Is this better?"  
"Whoa," Lance said, sitting down and trying to wring some of the water out of the hem of his jacket. The tree was so huge that there was enough room for both of them to sit out of the wind against the trunk, side by side. Lance stretched his legs out on the ground and looked up into the shadowy branches above his head. With the sky overcast and the dense foliage of the tree, it was pretty dark. "So, did you already know this was here, or did you just lead me on a wild trek through the woods in a storm and hope you got lucky?"  
"I knew it was here," Keith assured him. "This has been one of my favorite spots for a long time." He did look very at home there, Lance thought, like maybe he had sat in this exact spot enough times that the bark of the tree and the soil had gradually formed exactly the right shape for him to fit comfortably.   
Lance let the silence grow between them for a little while, filled by the rain, giving Keith the chance to break it, but selkie said nothing, and Lance's nervous energy finally got the better of him. "Hey, yesterday you said it's been a while since you talked to a human. Aside from me, I mean."  
Keith shrugged an affirmative.  
"Is it okay if I ask why?"  
Keith frowned thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. I mean, obviously I can't just go around on the beach like this chatting up just any human. But I used to have this...friend, Shiro, who knew what I am and everything, but we got into a bit of a fight back in the spring and I just haven't talked to him since."   
"It must have been a pretty big fight." Lance hugged his knees, sneaking a glance at Keith's face. Keith was still watching the rain.  
"I guess it was. But it wasn't big enough for all that. I should have gone back a long time ago, worked things out, you know? We used to be really close. I'm not even mad at him, I just wanted to leave the human world and that included him."  
Lance waited for Keith to say more, and when he didn't, he asked, "why did you want to leave?"  
"It's just simpler, being a seal all the time," Keith sighed. "No family, no school, no...drama. I mean, being a seal is scary too, because a shark or a killer whale might eat me, and I suppose it's nice to not have to worry about that while I'm on land, but...somehow it still seems easier, and I wanted things to be simple for once."   
The silence felt different this time, and Lance waited.   
"Well, when I say it like that, it sounds pretty ridiculous," Keith said with a forced laugh.  
"No, it doesn't," Lance said firmly. "It sounds like the sort of thing anyone might do if they had the option of disappearing into the ocean instead of going to school."  
Keith laughed again, this time for real. "Well, maybe you're right, but I should still probably talk to Shiro again. I just...I don't know where I would even begin."  
Lance put a tentative hand on Keith's shoulder. The wet seal coat felt furrier than it looked. "I'm sure your friend will be happy to see you no matter what."  
Keith groaned. "I don't think I can talk to him. It's been too long."  
"Fine," Lance said dismissively. "Go ahead and give up. It's okay if you're too scared to face him. I mean, if it were me I think I would probably just man up and do it, you know? But that's okay. Everyone's different."  
Keith growled. "I'll go find Shiro first thing tomorrow, you bastard."  
Lance leaned his head back against the tree and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this instead of sleeping. Again. Whoops.  
>  I'm posting this with hotel wifi, so this time it really is the last chapter for a while. (For real.)


	5. Chapter 5

Lance got back around lunchtime, dripping wet and apprehensive. He had said goodbye to Keith and made a dash for home when the rain had looked like it might let up for a while, but it had started pouring again about halfway there, and he'd been wet to begin with. His shoes squelched guiltily as he unstuck them from his feet in the entryway. He peeled his socks off too--they were still dripping--and left them tucked into his shoes, hoping he could find a way to dry them properly before he needed them again, because there was no way they would dry on their own in this climate. Come to think of it, they would probably just mold if he left them too long. A small part of Lance that had been around as long as he could remember wanted to do just that to see what kind of mold would grow, but the larger, more sensible parts of him were already deciding how long it was probably safe to leave his shoes in the dryer before the rubber soles started melting. He left his jacket with his shoes and crept up the stairs to change.   
He felt a lot better with dry clothes on, even if the rest of him was still rather cold and damp. His feet had been wet for so long that they had wrinkled. He found two clean socks--not a pair, but no one in Lance's family could keep a pair of socks intact for very long, so no one expected socks to come in pairs anymore--and put them on, hoping that his feet would return to a temperature that was compatible with life soon. Thus armored, he hoped to slip back into the daily flow of activity in the house without anyone noticing. He opened the door, and his mother was on the other side waiting for him.  
Lance was too surprised to smile. "Hi," he said reflexively.   
"Hi, sweetie," she said. She didn't sound or look angry. "Do you have a minute?"  
"Um," Lance said articulately. "Sure?" He backed up to let her into the bedroom.   
Lance had inherited his height directly from his mother. She was a tall woman with the same brown hair and wide smile as him, except she kept her hair in a loose braid down her back most of the time and was usually too tired to smile all the way. Unfortunately, she was also very observant.  
She closed the door behind her. Lance wondered if he was really too old for her to try to ground him. She hadn't in a while, but that didn't guarantee anything. He started planning worst-case-scenario strategies to sneak out and see Keith. There was no way he would let anything stop him from hanging out with a mythical sea creature, even if Keith was one of the more obscure kinds of mythical sea creature.   
Mom opened her mouth and said, "so where were you all morning?" and Lance wondered if he could escape by removing the screen on the bedroom window and climbing out onto the roof. How would he get down? Was it too high to jump? Well, the only way to find out was to try it, right?  
"On the beach?" Lance asked. It was entirely true, but he still felt like it would get him into trouble. He thought maybe this wasn't a very rational feeling. It was still there.  
Mom just nodded. She looked at his wet hair. "It's been raining awfully hard to be outside."  
"I like the rain," Lance protested. This was also entirely true.   
"I know," Mom sighed. "Look, I know it can get pretty overwhelming here sometimes, especially over the holidays. It's okay if you need to take a break, honey."  
This was not how Lance had been expecting this conversation to go. He paused in the middle of his plans to make a rope out of bed sheets (classic, but would it actually work?).  
"Is there anything you need to tell me?"  
I've been meeting with a boy who can turn into a marine mammal, he's really cool, he gave me some pretty rocks. "No," Lance assured her. "Everything's fine. I just needed some space."   
Mom gave him a long look. "Okay," she said, and he had a sinking feeling that she knew he wasn't telling her everything. Maybe he was just imagining it. "Tell you what. I don't mind if you go to the beach--really, even if you take a really long time--but I'd appreciate it if you would tell me beforehand so I know where you are. Does that sound reasonable?"  
Lance nodded.   
"And maybe take an umbrella next time."  
Lance cracked a smile. "Okay."  
"And try not to spend all day out there. We would all like to see more of you."  
Lance doubted that, but he nodded again.   
"I love you," Lance's mom said. She hugged him.   
"I love you too, Mom," he mumbled, hugging her back as he tried to process what had just happened. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's really short. Sorry about that.


	6. Chapter 6

Keith did not want to talk to Shiro.  
In theory, it seemed like a good idea. If he didn't think about it too much. He had been trying very hard not to think about it at all, and had instead focused on believing that he didn't miss Shiro, or anyone, and that he was fine with how his life was going, even though he hadn't really thought he could keep on believing it forever. Eventually he was going to have to change something.  
Did it really have to happen today, though?  
Theoretically, he wanted Shiro back, but the picture in his head of some kind of smooth reunion where they picked up their friendship where it had left off, whole and at least mostly pleasant, was dependent on Shiro being okay with the fact that Keith had disappeared for months without a word. Shiro was a patient person. He was even, usually, a very understanding person. Keith still didn't think that would be enough to keep him from freaking out the moment they saw each other again. The fact was, Shiro would have been worried, all this time, and Keith wasn't looking forward to having all of that worry brought down on him in a smothering barrage of frantic questions like where were you and are you okay and are you going to leave again. That, and he would be upset. Maybe even angry. Shiro's anger was almost as hard to cope with as his worry. Keith had been gone for a long time, and the longer he waited, the harder it got to face Shiro again. This knowledge should have been motivation for Keith to get it through with today, theoretically, but he really hadn't been planning on it. He had just assumed that, at some point, Allura would find him and drag him back home. He would have preferred that option: it was easier if he didn't have to take the initiative.   
He probably would have waited indefinitely for Shiro or Allura to find him, but now Lance had made it a challenge. Now he had no choice but to do it. Today.  
Keith lurked around the objectively shabby seaside house that Shiro (and, at least some of the time, Allura) occupied. It wasn't even worthy of the designation "house", really: Keith's father had bought it an unknown number of decades ago, and it was tiny, and ugly, and old. Shiro had moved in for convenience's sake after Keith's father had died, because Keith needed a roommate to help with the bills and, according to many people who were not Keith, adult supervision. Shiro had been the obvious choice because he was one of the few people who already knew what Keith was, and at the time he had needed an affordable way to live closer to Allura. It had worked out.   
It looked like it always had, and Keith watched it warily for about an hour. It was still early, and the temptation to use that as an excuse to wait a little longer was strong. Keith knew better than to let himself procrastinate, but he seriously considered making an exception before forcefully discarding the idea and climbing out of the sea. He shed his sealcoat and wrapped it around himself like an oversized jacket, letting it drag a little in the sand behind him. He trudged up the beach and took the charmingly shabby stone path that lead up to the back gate of the shack's tiny yard (now also charmingly shabby, since Allura had started coming around more often, because she and Shiro had planted a proper garden, with flowers.) Keith unlatched the gate without even looking: he had gone this way a zillion times. He shuffled up to the back door. The easiest part was over.  
If this doesn't go well, he told himself, I'll drown Lance.  
The thought made him feel marginally better, even if he didn't mean it. He knocked.   
At first, no one answered. He waited. Anxiety warped his sense of time, and he couldn't tell if he had waited long enough to knock again without being annoying. He considered just walking in, but no, they weren't expecting him, even if he did technically live here (at least on paper).  
It was Allura who answered the door, and Keith was immediately grateful. Allura was intimidating, but she had always known when to give him his space.   
"Hey," he said. He hadn't mumbled, he told himself. He was just quiet.  
Allura flung her arms around his neck. "Keith! We were so worried!"  
Keith didn't say, I know, I'm sorry, I should have come back months ago, I kind of lost track of time, can we please just pretend this never happened? What he did say was, "I'm still wet."  
Allura let go reluctantly, her sleeves and the front of her blouse damp with salt water. "I'm sorry. Why don't you go get dressed? Shiro went to get groceries, but I can call him if you want."  
Keith made a pained face. "I'd rather just wait for him to come back."  
Allura sighed. "Very well. Would you like a cup of tea?"  
"That would be great, thanks," he said, partly to make her feel better and partly because her fondness for tea had started to rub off on him. She padded off to the kitchen, presumably to make tea, and Keith went to face his old room.  
It was, distressingly, almost exactly how he had left it. The cork boards on the wall were still cluttered with whatever project he had been obsessing over before he left: his books were still stacked haphazardly in the corners: his knife collection was still scattered strategically throughout the room: his stuffed animals were still in the closet, where he hoped nobody would ever, ever find them, because what kind of boy his age still had those?  
He could almost have believed that Shiro and Allura had just left it alone, all this time, but if they had, it would have been dusty. It wasn't. And when Keith dug around in his dresser for clothes, none of them smelled like they had been left in a drawer since spring. Someone had washed them and put them back. Keith's guilt deepened as he wondered how many times Shiro had come into this room to tidy it up, just in case Keith came back soon.   
He dressed quickly, stashed his sealcoat in the chest under his bed, and went to meet his fate.   
Allura was exactly where Keith had thought she would be: in the tiny kitchen, presumably waiting for the kettle to boil. Keith could only guess where she might have picked up her tea-drinking habit--it struck him as a strange habit for a mermaid to have--but she had definitely foisted it upon him and Shiro with the full force of her sunny disposition and charming floral teapot. They'd never stood a chance, really, and it hadn't been long before Allura's tea was the default caffeinated beverage in their small, strange family.   
Allura smiled when she saw him and handed him two of her porcelain teacups (floral, of course, to match the teapot). "Would you put these on the table?"  
Keith went to find space on the table for them. It was more cluttered than it should have been: Shiro had always been an organized person at least, and Allura was the most effortlessly un-messy person Keith had ever met. Keith moved a stack of unopened mail to the kitchen counter to make room for the cups. "How has Shiro been?" he asked, as casually as he could, which turned out to not be very casual. He wandered back into the kitchen to watch Allura pick through her various teas (mostly loose leaf, of course) as she tried to choose one.   
"He's been worried about you," she answered, not casually at all. "We both have. You were gone for eight months."  
Right. Had it really been that many? "I didn't mean to worry you," he said lamely.   
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," Allura sighed. "You could have at least left us a note once in a while."  
In retrospect, that might have been a good idea.   
"And where were you? I looked for you, you know. I was very thorough. I'm sure if you had been anywhere nearby I would have found you."  
Keith looked at his hands. "I spent a lot of time up...north. I just got back maybe a week ago."  
Allura flipped her unreasonably long, white hair over her shoulder to stare at him harder. "Up north? Where exactly? Were you avoiding me on purpose?"  
"Washington, and...maybe a little?" he mumbled. He had gone there shortly after he and Shiro had had that big fight, slightly because he liked it there and mostly because he had hoped Allura wouldn't follow him that far north. Facing either of them had seemed entirely unthinkable at the time, especially since he remembered saying something along the lines of "I don't plan on coming back", which he had known he didn't mean even when he said it.  
Allura's kettle started shrieking and she rushed to take it off the stove. Keith stood in awkward silence as she poured its contents into her teapot and carried it to the table. He caught a whiff of something fruity as she walked by and wondered if she had gone for one of the unknowable number of pomegranate teas that she somehow seemed to be able to tell apart from each other. They'd argued about it once: Keith thought they mostly tasted the same, and Allura had insisted they were all distinct from each other with alarming vehemence. He retrieved the jar of honey from its usual place next to the stove and followed her. He wanted the sugar. He felt like he might eat the jar's entire contents with a spoon if nobody stopped him. Maybe between the sugar and the caffeine he would have the strength to get through whatever Shiro said when he got home.  
They sat and waited for the tea to steep. Allura folded her hands in her lap and Keith put his hands in his pockets, wishing he'd had the foresight to put a knife or some rocks or something in those pockets so he could fidget with them. Amazing, the habits he could have forgotten in just a few months.  
"Keith...you are planning to stay, aren't you? Or are you going to leave again?"   
Keith didn't meet her gaze. "I guess it depends on how angry Shiro is."  
Allura poured him a cup of tea. Keith didn't think it had been long enough for it to be done steeping, and wondered if she was just trying to keep her hands busy. "He may be angry, but he loves you," she said firmly. "You're like family. Both of us just want you to come home."   
Keith angrily drank some tea to stop himself from crying. It burned his mouth. His tongue was going to feel wrong for days, but it was worth it.   
Allura was still watching him, expecting an answer. Keith swallowed, waiting for his mouth to stop burning and pretending that was an excuse to stay silent while he tried to think of something.  
So it was that, despite his terror at the prospect of facing Shiro, Keith felt something akin to relief when he heard the front door open.   
Keith took another gulp of scalding hot tea and set the cup down, keeping his hands wrapped around it to brace himself. Allura poured a third cup and set it in front of an empty chair seconds before Shiro emerged from the entryway, one hand carrying far more grocery bags than was sensible, the other MIA. Keith tried to smile and failed. He had missed Shiro a lot more than he had realized.   
Shiro had the presence of mind to set his groceries down gently.  
"Hey Shiro," Keith managed. His former relief was long gone. What in the world was he supposed to say now?  
"Oh my god, Keith," Shiro said, and strode across the short distance between them to drag Keith into a tight one-armed hug. Awkwardly, Keith hugged him back.  
"I missed you," Keith said, because it was true. "I'm so sorry."


	7. Chapter 7

   Lance tried his best to sleep in the next morning, but he failed. It seemed that one day of being an early riser was all it had taken to ruin his sleep schedule.    Instead of getting out of bed, he picked up his phone. He had been too busy to text anyone yesterday, but he couldn't put it off much longer. Pidge and Hunk needed to know about Keith. Lance had promised himself that he would let himself believe in the selkie if he showed up yesterday, but it still wasn't sinking in. Telling someone about it would make it real.

   He texted Hunk first, because whatever Hunk's reaction to anything Lance said was, Pidge's would inevitably be worse. Hunk was the safe choice.

     _Hunk. Buddy. You will not believe this._ (sent 6:22 AM)      _I mean, you probably literally won't believe this. Uh-oh. I hope you don't think I've lost it._ (sent 6:23 AM)

     _Hunk? You awake? This is important_ (sent 6:23 AM)

     _So listen, the other day I was down on the beach--it's really close to my grandparents' house, right?--so I was down on the beach and I, um._ (sent 6:23 AM)

   _Well, do you know what a selkie is? They're these seals that can turn into people. Or people that can turn into seals? Kinda like in those movies where mermaids can get legs if they dry out but it's like, all of them that transforms, instead of just the bottom half. And they turn into a seal instead of a fish. Still smells like fish, btw_ (sent 6:23 AM)

     Lance was halfway through typing his next message when Hunk answered.    _Dude, are you okay? Why are you texting me this early? Are you having a stroke? Do you smell burnt toast?_ (received 6:24 AM)

_No, I am not having a stroke. I'm texting you this early because it's important and I want to tell you before everyone else wakes up and brings the chaos._ (sent 6:24 AM)

  

     _Okay, fine. Here. I'm going to look up what a selkie is. Happy?_ (received 6:25 AM)

  

     _Yes. So, did you look it up? What did you find?_ (sent 6:25 AM)

   _I looked it up. I found pretty much what you said. What did you want to tell me?_ (received 6:26 AM)

     _I accidentally summoned one._ (sent 6:27 AM)

  

     _Ha ha, very funny._ (received 6:27 AM)

 

     _No, really. His name is Keith_ (sent 6:27 AM)

    _He's kinda cute._ (sent 6:28 AM)

 

   Lance waited for a response, but instead of a text, Lance's phone rang. The kind of ringing that meant he would have to talk to somebody out loud.      _Incoming call from: Hunk_

     Lance braced himself and answered it. "Hello?"

     "I'm sorry, dude, but _what?"_ Hunk was normally pretty okay with Lance's shenanigans, but he sounded flustered.

     Lance pressed a hand over his face and vowed to not tell Pidge after all. "I'd really rather have this conversation by text," he told his friend. "I don't want any of the kids eavesdropping."

     "None of them are awake yet and you know it," Hunk said dismissively. "And I want to hear it right out of your mouth. Are you telling me, in all seriousness, that you've somehow befriended a shapeshifting seal person who by all accounts doesn't actually exist?"

     "Um...yes?" Lance was starting to regret telling Hunk about Keith. He had no way to actually prove anything: Hunk was three states away, and even if he wasn't, he wasn't sure how Keith would feel about being asked to meet Lance's friends just to prove something, though he could guess.

     "You've said some pretty weird stuff to me in the past, man, but this one's pretty high on the list. Top ten at least," Hunk told him. There was a loud clatter from Hunk's end, and Lance winced, holding the phone away from his ear.      "What are you doing?" Lance asked, giving up on the selkie conversation.      "Sorry. I'm making pancakes and I dropped a frying pan. Not a cast iron one," he added unnecessarily.      "I feel like a cast iron one would have just broken something if you dropped it," Lance remarked, also unnecessarily. Now that he was embarrassed he would keep talking about anything else or die.

   "Oh, you'd be surprised," Hunk told him, not seeming to notice how desperately Lance was steering towards small talk. "I've dropped them on my foot a couple of times. I think I did break a toe the second time but the first was fine."      Lance sighed. "Well, I'll let you get back to your pancakes."

     "Okay," Hunk said. "You should go back to sleep. You sound pretty tired. And I know Christmas stresses you out."

     "It does _not,_ " Lance argued. "I love Christmas."      "Good night, bro," Hunk said sympathetically, and hung up.

     Lance scowled at his phone. Well, he might as well tell Pidge too and get it over with.      He dialed her cell phone and waited.

     "What the fuck, Lance?" Pidge's voice said. "Are you okay?"      "Why would that be the first thing you ask?" he demanded.

     "Because it's like six thirty in the morning and the last time you woke up this early during a holiday was because your sister's dog threw up Thanksgiving leftovers on your bed."

   That was true. "I'm fine," Lance grumbled. "I just wanted to tell you something."    "You don't sound that fine," Pidge remarked. "What did you want to tell me?"

   Well, now he had to say it, or make up something that Pidge would accept as important enough to warrant a phone call. "I've befriended a shapeshifting seal person who by all accounts doesn't actually exist," he said, quoting Hunk.

   There was a pause.

   "Come again?"    Lance repeated himself. "Hunk's words, not mine," he added. "Although, he didn't believe me."    "Care to elaborate?" Pidge asked patiently.    "Uh, so the other day there was this seal on the beach but then he pulled his skin off and was a person. His name is Keith. He's nice."      "Gross."    "It was not," Lance told Pidge firmly. "That's probably a very rude thing to say."

     "Why are you telling me this at such an unholy hour?"

     "because I can't get back to sleep, so I told Hunk, but he didn't believe me and he was busy making pancakes."      "I miss Hunk's pancakes," Pidge said mournfully. "So, like, did you get your seal friend's number or anything? Are you going to see him again?"      "Are you making fun of me?" Lance heard footsteps downstairs. Someone really was getting up at this hour. Unbelievable. How could his own family be so alien to him?      "No," Pidge assured him. "I just think it would make sense to try to get his number. You don't meet someone like that every day. If I were you, I'd have about a bajillion questions."      Lance couldn't quite hide the excitement in his voice. "You mean you actually believe me?"

     "Of course," Pidge replied. "There's no way you could make something like that up. You're a terrible liar."      "...Thanks," Lance said drily. "I'm glad I can count on you."      "Anytime."

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to post this! My semester started yesterday.


	8. Chapter 8

    When Keith showed up at Lance's Grandparents’ door, Lance thought he was going to die of relief.  It was just after lunchtime, and Lance had been counting down the seconds until he thought he could politely excuse himself from present company, because one of his less considerate cousins was making uncharitable remarks about Lance's new habit of not being around for most of the day, even though he had in fact been there, which he personally thought was a worthy feat considering that it meant he hadn't, not even once, been to Keith's beach since the day of the storm. Lance thought that had been a very long time ago; by his count, something like one entire day and half of another stood between Lance and his last visit with Keith.  It seemed like a waste, to have met an actual mythical being and then just...not spend every second possible with him.

     Lance had told himself to ignore his impulse to track Keith down, not wanting to come off as clingy, but when he heard the doorbell ring, his brain immediately hoped it would be  _ him.   _ Lance did not leap from his chair to go find out.  He focused all of his energy into portraying an outward image of what he imagined he would look like if he did not care who was at the door.

    Then he heard Grandma yell, “Lance, there's a boy here to see you.  He’s cute!” And Lance felt his soul actually leave his body and ascend to the astral plane.

     Keith was standing on the front porch, visibly blushing, hands stuffed into the pockets of an inexplicably fashionable red jacket.  Lance's first thought was that it was weird to see him dry and with his hair combed, and his second was  _ don't say that out loud. _

    Instead he said, “hey,” and closed the door quickly behind him to prevent Grandma from saying anything else.  “I'm sorry about that.”

    Keith smiled ruefully.  “Don't worry about it.  Are you busy?  I don't want to bother you, I just realized I didn't have your phone number, so…” 

    Lance considered the conversation his cousin had been having at him inside.  “You couldn't possibly have had better timing,” he promised.  “Wait.  Did you come all the way over here just to get my number?” That seemed like something he should make a joke about, but nothing catchy came to mind.

    Keith somehow managed to make a little shrugging gesture using only his mouth and eyebrows.  “Not exactly.  I mean, I wanted to talk to you but I didn't know when you would be on the beach again and I didn't have your number so I looked for you here.”

   “Oh,” Lance said.  “Wait. How did you know where my grandparents live?  That's creepy, dude!”

    Keith's eyebrows made a very nondescript image of something between annoyance and confusion.  “I didn't.  You told me they lived up this way so I just knocked on people's doors and asked for you until I found the right house.”

    Lance wondered at how long that had taken and how awkward it must have been.  “Wow,” he remarked, “you must have  _ really _ wanted to talk to me.”

   Keith looked up.  “Oh yeah,” he said.  “I did.  Because I'm mad at you.”

   Lance's heart sank.  “Oh? Is it because you're jealous of my rugged good looks?”

    “There's nothing rugged about your good looks,” Keith shot back scathingly.  

    “Aha! But you admit they're good?” 

   Keith glared at him.  “Stop trying to change the subject.”

    Lance held up his hands in surrender.  “Okay, sorry.  What were you mad about?”

    Keith shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of that ridiculous red jacket--seriously, there was no logical explanation for how it could look anything but silly--and looked at his feet.  He was leaning against the railing of the front steps, and the pose kind of made him and his mullet look like an album cover from the eighties, the kind with a lot of leather jackets.  “I, uh, talked to Shiro and Allura.”

    Lance's heart sank down through the bottoms of his feet and kept going, in the direction opposite to where his soul had gone a few minutes before.  “Oh.  It didn't go well?”

    “He cried,” Keith said shortly.

    Lance trawled the depths of his mind for something to say that would make Keith feel better. 

   Keith put one hand over his face and the empty cavern where Lance's heart used to be squeezed unhappily.  “He wasn't even mad that I was gone so long.  He just said he was glad I was safe and then he cried for like, twenty minutes.”

    About a trillion possible responses raced through Lance's head, but none of them seemed sufficient.  He couldn't fix Keith's problems.  He leaned on the rail opposite Keith, mimicking the other boy’s posture, and waited. 

     “I feel terrible.  Shiro and Allura have always been so patient with me and I just abandoned them for most of a year, and then when I went back they just--” Keith broke off, clearly in danger of crying himself.  

    “Whoa, are you okay?” Lance asked, hoping it sounded sympathetic. 

    Keith rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Anyway,” he said gruffly, “I came to tell you you're an asshole for making me talk to Shiro and Allura again.”

    “I didn't make you do anything! And who’s Allura, by the way?”

     “You challenged me to do it. That's basically the same thing.” Keith glared at him, but it was obviously just showmanship.  “And Allura is Shiro’s girlfriend.”

    “Sounds like they were pretty happy to see you again,” Lance said gently.  

    Keith's lips trembled, just a little bit.  “Yeah.”

    Behind them, the door opened, and Lance's cousin poked her head out.  “Hey, are you going to help with the dishes?”

    Lance looked at his cousin in disbelief.   _ Rude.   _ He tried to think of a way to say goodbye to Keith without completely, unsalvageably ruining the moment.

   But then, why?  He looked back at Keith, who was opening his mouth to say something that would probably be stoic and polite.

    “Oh, sorry, I can't,” Lance said hurriedly, trying to sound remorseful and failing.  “I forgot I promised Keith that I would, uh, take him to the movies.  Right now.”

    Lance's cousin cast an annoyed, dismissive glance at Keith, and Lance felt the exact moment when he entirely stopped caring about whether or not he hurt her feelings right then.  “Who's this, your new boyfriend?” She asked, with a little laugh, and Lance felt his face burn as he started to think this was going to become one of those moments that he remembered in excruciating, humiliating detail for the rest of his life.

      Keith turned so that his shoulders faced her, wearing the expression of a man ready to cut someone. “Yeah,” he declaimed, a little louder than was strictly necessary.  “Got a problem with that?” 

    Lance boggled at him, bracing himself for whatever his cousin would say next, but all she did was huff and say “whatever”, and close the door as she disappeared back inside.

     “Holy quiznack,” Lance said softly.

     Keith looked embarrassed.  “I'm sorry.  I hope I didn't just get you into trouble.” 

    “If you did,” Lance said seriously, “it was worth it.”

    Keith's eyebrows hinted at a smile.  It seemed that the majority of his expressions were limited to his eyebrows, and Lance wondered if he should just watch them instead of the rest of him.  

    “Well,” Lance said hopefully, “I guess I’m free for the rest of the afternoon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so, I realize it has been actually forever since I updated. I am SO SORRY. I'm bad at this. Thank you for leaving kudos and nice comments anyway, it means a lot to me.


	9. Chapter 9

Lance would have dearly loved to leave with Keith immediately and enjoy the satisfaction of a clean and dramatic departure, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he had to dash back inside to grab his shoes and wallet. Even this wasn't enough to kill his excitement, or his relief at being able to escape the disapproval of his cousins for a while.   
He almost felt guilty for leaving. After all, it was a holiday. He was supposed to be spending time with his family, even if they obviously thought he was annoying and were only putting up with him because they were family.  
Keith didn't think he was annoying, though.  
Lance stopped for a moment at that thought. Yes, he decided, he could believe that. Why would Keith go to so much effort to find him if he thought Lance was annoying? It would be easy for Keith to just avoid him, and he hadn't. He’d gone out of his way to see Lance, twice now. Lance couldn't think of another explanation.  
He blew out the door and back to where Keith was waiting on the porch, feeling more buoyant. He grinned at the other boy and was rewarded with a smile in return. “Okay--ready to go?”  
They set out together, and Lance was relieved to find that Keith walked much faster without his sealcoat. He didn't seem to have any trouble keeping up with Lance, despite how much longer Lance’s stride was and how often Lance forgot to walk at a normal pace. It was easier to relax and pay attention to the conversation this way.  
“So, is the family visit not going so well?” Keith inquired, keeping his voice light.   
Lance gave a long sigh. “It's fine. I love them, a lot, but sometimes I just need a break.” he glanced at Keith, a warm smile tugging at his mouth. “You have excellent timing.”  
“You said that already,” Keith pointed out.  
Lance mentally kicked himself. “That’s because it’s such a good line!” he lied, and immediately wondered if he was making it worse.  
Keith scrutinized him in silence for a moment, his face unreadable. Lance felt his face burning and hoped it didn’t show. He forced himself to keep quiet, and the silence stretched as they walked. Lance started to wonder if Keith was just an unusually quiet person or if his time as a seal had left him unaccustomed to conversation.   
“This feels weird,” Keith said finally. “You know, because...it’s so normal. I haven’t done anything like this in so long.” He stared at the landscape as he walked, hands still in his jacket pockets. It was a surprisingly unwindy day, but there was still a nice breeze, and his dark hair was blowing dramatically around his face. He looked cool. Unattainable. Lance sighed.  
“What's wrong?” Keith asked.  
Shit.  
“Nothing,” Lance said. It came out sounding completely calm. He was proud of himself. “So, where are we going?”  
Keith looked completely serious. “To see a movie, of course. I wouldn't want you to have to lie to your family.”  
Lance grinned stupidly at him and tripped over a rock.  
His day was definitely improving.  
***  
Lance let Keith pick the movie, because he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to pay attention to it anyway. This instinct turned out to be correct: he had no idea what it was about. He did know that Keith ate most of the popcorn during the previews, and that the mullet cast flatteringly dramatic shadows on his face in the light that reflected off the screen. He contemplated trying to put his arm around Keith's shoulders, but discarded the idea about five times in a row. Best-case scenario, Keith might reflexively punch him, and Lance didn't especially want to find out how hard a guy who lived part-time as a marine mammal could hit. Instead, Lance settled for sneaking surreptitious glances at Keith's face. In the office, angled lighting, he looked every bit as otherworldly as he had the first time Lance had seen him emerging from the sea, summoned by Lance's tears. It suddenly hit him that he was sitting in a movie theater with a literal myth, and was probably the only person who knew that, aside from the myth himself. Keith probably knew things about the world that Lance never would, maybe things he wasn't even capable of comprehending. He felt a strange mixture of awe and jealousy at the thought.   
He let Keith finish the popcorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive Me
> 
> Sorry this one's so short. I got to a spot that I felt was a good stopping point and just went with it.


End file.
